


I'm feeling more awake since I met you

by talldee8



Series: Maybe Expected [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Dysphoria, Childhood Trauma, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, I Love Patricia Blum Uris, M/M, Married Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Neglectful Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stanley Uris is So Done, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talldee8/pseuds/talldee8
Summary: Eddie doesn't say anything in return. He just lets himself be enveloped in warmth and love. It pulls him back to the first time they talked seriously about starting a family. It was less of an actual talk and more about a statement made in the middle of a conversation. They should have talked about it sooner. Instead, Richie made a joke, and Eddie felt the need to blurt out how he felt instead of just going along with it.OrThe parents-to-be face both their individual feelings about becoming fathers as well as what it means for them together. Featuring: A Dysphoric Episode, Panic Attacks, Childhood Trauma, and One Big, Dumb Man letting the cat out of the bag.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris (background)
Series: Maybe Expected [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066910
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	I'm feeling more awake since I met you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Happy Early New Year!  
> Thank you to everyone who read the first part! It really means a lot to me.
> 
> First off, the title comes from the song "Sunset Wife" by Emmett Mulrooney which I had on repeat while writing this.  
> Second, Please be aware that this one does touch on some sensitive topics that may be triggering or harmful so take care of yourselves.  
> If there is a tag I missed or you feel needs to be added, just let me know!

It had only been a day since they found out, but everything is already shifting. The way they see themselves and each other: the future and their friends.

Richie is on his way home from a meeting with his management team about his next comedy special set to be filmed in a few weeks. The material isn't anything new for him.

A story from their last Losers mini-vacation in which Bill got drunk enough to change his upcoming book's ending to a homo-erotic suicide pact as a dare. He regretted sending it to his editor as soon as the change was made, but she had loved it in a turn of events, which made everything so much funnier for the rest of them.

A whole array of stories about the small jab sessions between him and Eddie, like the creamy vs. chunky peanut butter fight they had in the middle of Publix even though Eddie prefers almond butter, which makes him a heathen, but Richie still loves him anyway. The problem is that he wants to fill it already with quips about him and Eddie and their baby.

Their baby. The thought is still open and raw in the same way that the meeting made him feel. Only a handful of things make him feel that way. His last night phone calls about the meaning of life with Stan, which neither would admit, helps calm their anxieties about the things they can't talk about with anyone else.

The video chats with Beverly where they just shot shit as they would in high school when they skipped class to smoke outside the gym, much to Eddie's dismay, who hid his worry in constant rants about lung cancer and bad breath. It never stopped him from kissing Richie even with a sour face, brows knit together.

Everything brought Richie's mind back to Eddie. It always has. Like how Eddie is probably padding around the house cleaning in one of his shirts that hung off him and a pair of gym shorts he swore to all the other Losers that he no longer owned even though he had a not so secret stash hidden in their 'sleepwear' drawer.

Thinking about his husband makes Richie want to get home faster than anything else other than maybe the idea of taking off his pants because Richie is the definition of a no-pants kind of guy.

What he doesn't expect is to find the house unnervingly quiet when he enters. No light hm as Eddie works his way around the house, either working or tidying up. No sound of soft music as he curls up to read on the couch until Richie gets home. No pots and pans are clanging in the kitchen, letting Richie know Eddie had gotten tired of waiting for him to get home and make something edible. A pit sets in his stomach in a way it hadn't in over a year.

"Honey, I'm home!" Richie calls out while pulling his shoes off next to the door. When he gets no answer, he calls out again.

"Eds, you here?" Of course, he is there, but where.

He starts his search through the house. The living room looks untouched from the night before, which is the first red flag that flares through Richie's mind.

After the news they received, the boys had gone home and spent an unrealistic amount of time making out like teenagers until they were lost in each other.

The second is the dishes that still sit in the sink, which is definitely not a norm for a Thursday afternoon. Richie hadn't had time to clean up after himself that morning, and the fact that Eddie hadn't seemed to have made it to the kitchen yet is more than concerning.

Eddie isn't in any of their shared public places or in his office, which only leaves one spot left for Richie to look. Their bedroom door is ajar. Soundlessly Richie pushes forward, hoping to find Eddie asleep on their bed. He isn't.

The final blaring red alarm that sounds is the light streaming from the crack of their bathroom door on the other side of their bedroom.

Panic floods Richie's veins. Eddie hadn't had a bad dysphoric episode in some time. Having started Testosterone in the latter part of high school, much to his mother's dismay, left Eddie as somewhat of a late bloomer.

It wasn't something that he could hide very easily until then. His binder hid the parts of himself he didn't like but, he hadn't shot up in height like the other boys, and his voice hadn't dropped. Eddie couldn't go through top surgery until they were twenty-one, and even then, the healing process had made him uncomfortable with touch or attention toward his chest at all. It had taken the better part of the last three years to get Eddie comfortable entirely in his skin, but yesterday's news could have had some effect that Eddie hadn't communicated. Eddie wasn't awake yet when Richie left for his meeting, so there were no warning signs.

Without a second thought, Richie pushes the door open.

The light in the bathroom is almost blinding compared to the darkness of the bedroom.

Eddie isn't even phased by Richie's presence for a moment, just standing in front of the mirror shirtless with his hand hovering over his lower abdomen dazed. Richie would find the sight endearing any other time, but the far off look on Eddie's face tells him now is not the time for him to coo at his partner.

"Eds." Richie's voice is soft as he reaches out for his husband, who snaps out of his trance, raising his eyes to meet Richie's in the reflection.

"Shit Rich." Realization crossing his face as he pieces together just how long he had been standing there, lost in thought. His hand is rubbing at the spot below his belly button.

"Hey baby, you okay?" Richie wastes no time pulling Eddie against him wrapping his arms around him. He thinks for a moment about letting his hands rest where Eddie's are currently but decides against it in case that makes things worse for the shorter man.

Eddie stays quiet for a moment, just enjoying the heat that seems to always radiate off him—letting the warmth steel into him so he can speak.

"I took a shower when I got up, right? Which was way later than usual. And everything was fine." His hands are moving wildly, giving way to his nervous energy.

"Then I got out, and it just hit me." Eddie turns in Richie's arms facing him. His eyes are hard-set but still dazed.

"A person is growing in me now. Like. Fuck. Seriously. Fucking hell." Eddie presses himself further into Richie, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. His voice on the edge of panicked.

Instead of being the supportive husband, he knows he should be, Richie quips, "Well yes, Eddie Spaghetti, that is what being pregnant means."

Eddie pulls away, scowling at him. "Yes, Dickwad. I know that. But. We made a person. The person in me we made them."

Eddie grabs one of Richie's hands for good measure and presses it to his stomach.

The simple brush of his fingers against the still toned flesh shoots warmth up Richie's hand until his hand is covered by Eddie's. Palm pressing flat against the soon to be rounded skin of Eddie's stomach. This is the first time Eddie lets him touch it even though he is in the middle of a pregnancy shock.

Richie's face softens at the gesture, "Hey, little bean. Your daddy seems freaked out by basic biology, but I'm a master at human anatomy since I've been fucking his mom since-"

"Beep Beep Richard, oh my God. You cannot fucking tell our kid that." Eddie says, pulling away and grabbing his shirt off the countertop. The words make him pause before he abandons Richie.

Richie follows him like a lost puppy into their bedroom.

"But Eds, they have got to know mine and Mrs. K's history." Reaching for Eddie again before having his hands swatted away.

"Let me get my shirt on, Rich. I've been topless all day, and it's…" The way his words drop off tell Richie it is time to stop joking for a moment and support his husband.

Letting Eddie pull the shirt over his head, Richie leads him over to their king size bed before dragging him into the mess of covers.

"What are you doing, Rich?" Eddie asks softly while he lets himself be rearranged on the bed.

"I'm about to cuddle the shit out of my pregnant husband," Richie responds while wrapping himself around Eddie all long limbs and soft body.

Eddie doesn't say anything in return. He just lets himself be enveloped in warmth and love. It pulls him back to the first time they talked seriously about starting a family. It was less of an actual talk and more about a statement made in the middle of a conversation. They should have talked about it sooner. Instead, Richie made a joke, and Eddie felt the need to blurt out how he felt instead of just going along with the joke.

_It was the beginning of this last spring when the words finally left Eddie's mouth harsh and rushed after Richie has made a jab about them maybe adopting a cat and calling their family done._

_"I want to have a baby."_

_Eddie's eyes never leaving the broad, slack-jawed expression on Richie's face. Eddie's whole face light up bright red as the words sink into the minds of everyone around them. The Losers were all together for once with the inclusion of Patty, Audra, and Mike's sweet new girlfriend, Amanda. Only the original Losers' Club understanding the weight of the statement._

_It meant going off of the medication he worked so hard to get on._

_It meant fighting an uphill battle with his dysphoria again._

_It meant allowing his body to do what he had fought against since the age of ten._

_"Shit Eds. That's out of left field" Richie seemed to find himself again in time to crack a joke, "But if you want to knock me up that bad, I'm down. You know, all fours." Which results in a chorus of Beep Beep Richie from all those involved._

_The hidden laughter allowed the topic to be dropped, but the idea was already planted in both of their minds._

_A baby. A family. Could they really do that? Could they really have that? It made sense for Stan and Patty, who would be the perfect parents, or Ben and Beverly, who would smother their kid in love and acceptance._

_Could they be the parents they wish they had when they were kids? Loving. Caring. Helpful. Supportive._

_They didn't know but, the idea was there, and it had taken root._

_Once they were safely in the confines of their room that night, the real questions seemed to seep out of Richie's pours._

_"Did you mean it? What you said earlier? About the?" Richie didn't finish, but he knew that Eddie understood his questions._

_"Yeah. Yeah, I think I did." He didn't think; he knew he meant it but, what if it was too much for Richie? What if he didn't want a family like that. A kid._

_"I mean, I don't even know if I can. Not after everything but… I want to try. I want to try with you." Eddie's hand found Richie's before he was finished, and when he was, Richie's lips were against his soft and sweet._

_Needy in the way a person needs oxygen._

_Surprisingly chaste given the sort of response that kind of emission would usually warrant._

_They laid in bed for a long time, then just kissing—mouths overlapping in long, loving passes._

_"So, you want me to knock you up, huh baby" If anyone heard the thud and the yelp of Richie hitting the floor of their shared room, no one said anything the next day._

_Richie just laughed when he made his way back onto the bed._

_"Now that was just rude, Edward." The smile not leaving his face._

_"Maybe you should think before you speak. I know you can sometimes." Eddie made a pass to rub at the spot on his back that hit the side table on the way off the bed._

_"Maybe. But then you wouldn't love me as much. And, you know, we wouldn't have as much of a stainable income. For the baby." The words tumble out, making the space tense with more questions._

_"We don't have to talk about this now if you don't want Rich." Eddie wanted to. To get the words out there so that they were on the same page. They had the terrible habit of being within the same page range but often never on the same page when it came to these things._

_Like when they had been high schoolers, and both boys had sworn up and down that the other had no feelings for them._

_How Eddie had moved almost all of his things into Richie's shitty first apartment before Richie had caught on that they were living together._

_The way they had both bought engagement rings because they were tired of waiting for the other to propose._

_"No Eds, I want to talk about it." Richie's eyes met his, and he knew that the man was serious._

_"Okay," the only word Eddie could force out of his mouth at the mere concept of Richie wanting to have a baby with him._

_"I’d love to start a family with you, Eddie baby,” the but hanging in the air between them. “But we have to actually talk about how we want to go about this. If we are.” Richie’s serious face always pulled at something in Eddie’s core._

_“I want to have your baby.” Eddie had never felt so sure of something he’d put so little thought into before._

_The statement left Richie with an unhinged jaw for a second time that night. His first thought had been surrogacy. Then maybe adoption. Eddie's idea of carrying their child had crossed his mind, but after everything they had gone through to get to the point they had, Eddie was willing to go backwards to have a child with him?_

_“Eddie. That means going off T. That means working against your top surgery. Bleeding again.” The worry pours out like a fountain. Eddie can’t help but tense up at the prospects that come with a possible pregnancy._

_“I know what I’m saying, Richard. It isn’t going to be easy.” It wasn’t going to be easy on either of them._

_“But, if we’re going to have a baby, I’m doing it.” Eddie’s hands wrap around the clinched fists Richie didn’t know he was making._

_“If we are having a fucking kid, they will be ours come hell or high water.” The words shatter whatever seriousness that had built between them._

_“What the fuck does that mean, Eddie Spaghetti?” Laughter bubbles out of Richie._

_Eddie just stares at his husband and then fumes arms crossed over his chest._

_“It is just an expression asshat.” Fondness hidden behind the annoyed words._

"Earth to Eduardo. This is Captain Richie of the USS Baked Bean. Do you copy?"

Instead of an answer, Richie gets a flick to the forehead. Hands racing to rub the spot of abuse.

"Ow, Eds. Not nice. You're setting a bad example for the little one." Eddie's breath hitches again.

The comment would usually be harmless like most of the tactless ramblings that come out of Richie’s mouth, but that one hits the core of Eddie’s whole breakdown.

It isn't the first time the idea that he will be a lousy parent has wormed its way into his mind. The idea had been planted by his mother years before he knew he was himself.

Before he knew he was gay.

Before he knew the word for what he was. Why he hated his body. Why he hated his mother’s words more than the physical form he occupied.

_You're going to make a beautiful mother one day_. He hated those words and, by proxy, the idea of being a _mother_.

As he got older, he found himself and his friends. He began to hate the idea of becoming a parent in general, let alone _giving birth_.

His mother was sick.

 _Not right in the head_ as Richie would so eloquently phrase it. She smothered him in fake medication and false diagnoses to try and keep him tethered to her. All it did was make Eddie run further away.

At eleven, he had been reserved and respectful toward the woman. By the time he hit sixteen, he was out of the house at every chance he could get, whether his mother knew it or not.

Now at the age of twenty-four, he's put himself into the exact position he told himself he would never be in. His mother's voice said to him that he'd _corrupt_ anything that came out of him now, especially if it came from _that Tozier boy_.

He didn't realize he’s mid-panic attack until Richie's voice muddied made its way to his ears.

"It's okay, Eds. I got you.” Eddie is grounded back to reality.

“I've got you, honey. Breath with me, okay? In one, hold two, out three. That's right. In one, hold two, out three." The breathing exercise and Richie's firm grip on either side of his face bring him back full force.

Richie’s thumbs are pressing gently into the hollows of his cheeks. Eyes glued to his face to make sure he doesn’t slip back into the panic.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good. Can you answer some questions for me?" Richie is always so gentle in times like this.

Eddie nods while letting out a quiet "yeah."

He is letting his eyes close to focus on the sound of Richie’s scratchy tenor.

"What is something you see?" Pulling his eyes open, Eddie looks over Richie's shoulder to the wall next to their bed.

"Picture of us," the words are harsh at best. His throat is raw from the jagged breaths he was just sucking in.

"Good. Great. What do you hear?" Richie is still following the breathing technique even though he isn't saying it out loud anymore.

"Um. Rain. It's raining?" Although the statement is more of a question, it is still an answer.

Sometime during their time in bed, clouds had streamed together to cover the whole of the sky, letting clear, heavy droplets settle on the area.

"Amazing. Smell?" The answer to that one is easy.

"You. Musk and Aftershave. Home." The words tremble from his lips, shaper even if he is feeling better.

"Adorable Eds. Taste?" Richie's hands slide down to his shoulders and start rubbing just under the sleeves of his shirt.

"Um. Toothpaste." The taste reminds him of his plans for the day that have gone by the wayside now.

"Gross. What do you feel, baby? Last one." Probably the most important question out of the set. The one that will let Richie know that Eddie is really back with him instead of gripped by anxiety.

"Your hands. You always slide your hands up my shirt sleeves when you really want to rub my back." Eddie lets his eyes open again to meet Richie's.

He isn’t sure when he had let them slide close again, but the sight before him is one worth opening them.

His face is soft, but the crease between his brows is pinched.

"Hey there, good looking. You come here often?" The line lets all the worry crack out into the anxious air that has settled in their bedroom.

"Only when my husband is a real pain in the ass." The quip allows Richie to relax just a fraction.

The panic was expected. The news had hit when neither was prepared for the weight that it sat on them. That doesn’t mean Richie is anywhere near happy to have to pull his husband out of a panic attack caused by something stupid he had said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Richie's hands have successfully burrowed their way through the holes of Eddie's shirt now. They are kneading into the flesh of his shoulders in an attempt to work out some of the stress that has been raised in them.

"I'm going to be a terrible father." The words slip out like a secret.

Eddie sounds so sure the words are fact. It tears a hole wide open in Richie’s chest.

"Oh, Eddie." His head is being crushed against Richie's collarbone while his arms loop around him like a wall trying to protect him from his intrusive thoughts.

"No, you aren't. You're going to be an amazing Father.” Richie’s grip only loosens so that he can look at Eddie.

“You are never going to miss a booster shot or a dentist appointment.” Both knowing the truth behind the statement. Eddie still gets on to Richie about his check-ups. He has since they were kids.

“You will know all four food allergies they have before they are old enough even to know what a tree nut is.” That coaxes a small chuckle out of Eddie. Richie isn’t even sure he knows what a tree nut is.

“I'm the one who is going to barely remember to pick them up from daycare, and what color cold medicine you sent me to the store for because they like blueberry more than bubblegum because they are your heathen and who doesn't like bubblegum?" Richie's ramblings give way to his insecurities about having a child.

Eddie pulls away just enough to read Richie's face. To see the worry about not just Eddie but the idea of being a parent.

Eddie may be carrying their child but, Richie is just as involved in the process. That fact had left Eddie’s mind entirely.

Knowing the big dummy his husband was, Richie probably hadn’t taken a second to think about himself in their kid's context and how all of this will affect him.

"We really are two complete dumbasses, huh?" Eddie whispers.

"Two total idiots who were allowed to make a baby." Richie smiles, and the room feels just a little lighter.

"You're going to be a great dad too, Rich.” Willing the other man to believe him.

“Talking me down from going full PTA parent at board meetings.” The idea of Eddie red-faced screaming at a soccer mom twists Richie's gut in a way he knows it shouldn't.

“And making sure I don't smother them the way that she did me." Weighted isn’t the right word for the statement, but they both know how much it matters to Eddie.

Being like his mother in any facet scares him shitless. Now, faced with the prospects of being even a sliver like her to their child makes him want to curl into himself. Richie wants to roll him up into a warm, safe cocoon away from the thoughts that he could be anything like the monster that raised him.

"Yes, Sir,” Richie means it.

“While you make sure I don't turn into an absent father or an alcoholic mother?" They sound like a joke, but both men know there is no real humor to the words.

Richie’s parents hadn’t started out bad the way Sonia had, but years of marriage and having a kid ‘like Richie’ had worn on them.

Wentworth was a great dentist with his own practice. He was involved in Richie’s life for a while. Supportive even when it came to his many voices and endless energy, but, as everything does, he got tired of being the only one putting any effort into their child.

Maggie couldn’t handle the voices. Couldn’t handle the endless talking. Couldn’t handle the basic needs of their son. The constant need for attention. So, she drowned herself in wine until everything was numb, and Richie’s words were just a dull rumble in the back of her mind.

Wentworth had the practice to keep. Maggie had a bottle to nurse. Richie had friends who only mildly tolerated him but, they didn’t scream for him to shut up or tell him they were busy to listen to his jokes, so he spent as much time away from home as he could. No one questioned why they never spent time at his house or why he had a habit of sneaking into the windows of his friend’s rooms in the middle of the night once he was old enough to.

"Of course. You can only be one, not both. You have to pick one." The same joking, humorless tone is carried on.

For the sake of the joke, Richie rolls both options in his mind before settling.

"How about neither?" Richie's smile lights up his face. The annoyingly exuberant grin that helped Eddie fall hard and fast when they were younger.

It could have been any number of things that made his heart race, but the way Richie could illuminate the whole room at the smallest bit of joy that wracked him. It turned him into a pile of goo on the clubhouse floor while everyone else just looked on in amusement.

"Neither is good too. I like neither." Eddie presses a kiss to the corner of Richie's mouth before he turns to imprint a chaste one on his lips. Richie doesn’t think he could handle anything more at that moment.

"We're having a baby."

The words register between them—the weight sitting on them but not uncomfortably as it had earlier in the day.

"Yeah, Rich, we are." Adjusting themselves in a way that allows Eddie to rest his head against Richie’s shoulder while still being seated upright lets Richie’s hands grope at the plain between his hips.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself for one second?” The bite in Eddie’s voice means nothing to Richie. Pressing his hands one on top of the other over the space Dr. Taylor had pressed the wand yesterday.

“Nope. Not a chance. You know I like feeling you up.” The sentence makes Eddie blanch.

“You are ‘feeling up’ our child, you perv. So, if you could not, I’d like to cuddle in peace.” Pushing Richie backward, he lays almost entirely on top of his partner.

Richie makes a sound of complaint, which just erects the words “man-baby” out of Eddie.

The two men coil themselves around each other for what feels like the thousandth time today. The only sounds in the room are the rain hitting the window of the glass door that leads out to the balcony and the quiet breaths between them.

They stay like that for about an hour before Richie ruins the moment of peace after Eddie's stomach lets out a low rumble causing his face to heat up.

"Now that we've both had our excisional crisis about being parents, I'm feeling Chinese. Oo. Or, hear me out, Thai?" The words come from a realization that Eddie probably hasn’t eaten today and that Richie hadn’t put anything in his mouth since his meeting approximately four hours ago.

Not being able to sit still for a moment longer, he drags Eddie from their bedroom and out into the living room.

Once there, Eddie seems to remember the 'absolute disaster' they had left the house in last night when they stumbled to their bedroom a link of tongue and teeth.

Shirts were discarded on the floor.

Eddie’s messenger bag (read ‘satchel’) is still sitting in the chair rather than put away in his office.

His hands itch to pick everything up and put them in their right places. Clothes in the hamper for him to do laundry tomorrow. His bag safe in its cubby at the bottom of his desk. The glasses in the dishwasher. The paperwork from yesterday filed neatly into a system with labels that let him find what he wanted when he wanted it.

It is like Richie can read his mind.

"Oh no, you don't. You can clean after we get something in you." Hands are pulling Eddie into the kitchen to help pick out which take-out menu they would be calling for the night because neither one of them have the emotional stability to cook and not set the whole house on fire.

The state of the kitchen makes Eddie want to scream or cry, but screaming is more likely.

“Richard. Why are there three plates in the sink? What did you make this morning that could probably have warranted three plates?” Richie stops shifting through their take-out menus to level with Eddie.

“Food first. Then you can rail me about my multi-plate usage Spaghetti.” With a huff, Eddie complies.

After browsing their various options, the two pick a Chinese place that they often get when they feel like being fancy at home. It isn't a fancy at home night but, it is a cozy cuddle on the couch while they watch shitty rom-com kind of night.

While they wait for the food, Richie lets Eddie pick up the living room because Eddie refuses to get comfortable until the room is somewhat clean.

“Eddie, baby, come sit with me. Please.” The begging tone of Richie’s voice makes Eddie relent in his cleaning. Allowing himself to be man-handled into his husband’s arms with a soft hum.

“Food should be here soon. Then we can watch a shitty movie.” Eddie pulls a grumpy face, ready to argue, which makes Richie chuckle.

“After that, you can clean all you want.” Those words seem to do the trick.

Richie’s phone was discarded soon after getting home until he uses it to call in their order. Eddie’s phone is still where he left it before his shower that afternoon. Both men are paying more attention to each other than the technology usually attached to them.

They were both surprised when the shrill code red ringtone on Richie's phone alerts them back to their presence.

Richie makes quick work of grabbing his phone from the kitchen counter before realizing who was calling him.

"Hello, Staniel, the voice of reason, the slightly dimmer light of my life, what can I-" Stan's harsh tone cuts off Richie.

"We all have been trying to get a hold of you and Eddie all day.” Eddie is up going to retrieve his own phone to flip through his notifications, which does relieve that the Losers Club group chat was filled with @s to both him and Richie.

Even a few solo messages from different members had made their way into his inbox, hoping to get an answer.

“Where have you been? You ghosted yesterday afternoon, and no one has heard from you since." Of course, Stan was the Loser elected to make the final call before they started showing up to check for bodies.

The two men share a look. Eddie is pleading for his husband not to do what they both know he is about to do.

They agreed to wait a few weeks to tell everyone. To get their next set of ultrasound photos. To make sure they made it out of the first trimester.

For it to be safe to get everyone’s hopes up on a little loser running around.

Richie, the man he is, throws all that out the window and blurts out, "We're having a baby."

Which causes Eddie to loudly groan and retort, "We were waiting to tell them asshat! Remember, high risk! First try! Accident! Those words ring any bells in that dumb empty head of yours?"

The other end of the line is quiet, but they can’t tell because of the beating Richie is receiving from his husband.

"Fuck. Eds stop! I can't hit you back. Husband abuse! Stan!" Richie's voice is muffled by what seems to be a one-sided pillow fight, but the laughter is unmistakable.

"Stan?" Richie sounds worried after a moment.

"A baby as in...” The words seem to get stuck in his throat the same way they had for both Eddie and Richie the first time they processed it.

A light gasp can be heard in the background of the call, letting them know that not only did Stan know now, but Patty as well.

The soft cooing on the line fills Richie and Eddie with warmth even though Eddie should still be coming attempted murder.

“You know what. We're having lunch next week.” Patty, in the background demanding to be involved.

“I'll send Eddie a calendar invitation. Just us four… five? Jesus. Goodbye." Stan ends the call without hearing a word from either man.

Richie would have made a joke about saying the lord's name in vain isn’t very Jewish of Stan, but he hung up before he could.

Eddie hits Richie with their gifted throw pillow one more time before saying, "Fuck you, Rich. Stan only sends official invites when we've fucked up. So, Fuck you."

Richie just stares at his phone for a moment before sending Stan a picture of the ultrasound for good measure with the message, 'Meet our Bean' and a big heart emoji. Stan heart reacts to the image but just responds with 'See you, Thursday Richard.'

**Author's Note:**

> This series may cross-over with a Losers Club kids universe I created a while back. Which is why Mike and Bill aren't currently together. I haven't decided if I want to subject the public to them but if you'd like to meet the kids. Let me know.


End file.
